Seeing Stars
by silverhelix428
Summary: Picking up immediately after the Volume 6 teaser, the Heroes and villains have to deal with the consequences of Claire's actions. Ensemble. Pemma, various other pairings. Speculation!fic for S5. TEMPORARY HIATUS
1. Prologue: Brave New World

**Title-** Seeing Stars  
**Author-** Victoria  
**Rating-** T, for language and suggestive themes later on  
**Characters/Pairings-** Pemma, Matt/Janice, Lauren/HRG/Sandra, Claire, Gretchen, redemption!Sylar, Tracy, Hiro, Ando/Kimiko, Edgar, Ian, various other Carnies  
**Summary-** Picking up immediately after the Volume 6 teaser, the Heroes (and villains) have to deal with the consequences of Claire's actions. Ensemble. Multichapter.

**A/N-** This is my take on how Volume 6 will go. Expect updates from now until the new season (there better be one!) starts.

* * *

Prologue: Brave New World

_"I'd like to make myself believe that planet Earth turns slowly..."  
-Owl City, "Fireflies"_

* * *

==CENTRAL PARK==

_"My name is Claire Bennet, and that was attempt number... I guess I've kind of lost count."_

The words were spoken softly. They sounded innocent, if you took them out of context. But the live camera feeds for six national news chains had captured the sixty-foot fall that preceded them. Forty million people watching the nightly news across the US saw a teenage girl survive a fatal fall and snap her bones back into place. They saw the cuts on her face heal before their eyes. And for a breathless second, no one in Central Park said a word. Claire stared into the camera with her gray-green eyes, and waited. Then the barrage of questions started.

Across the fairground, Peter kicked at the dirt in frustration. "Goddamn-- HIRO!"

The Japanese man standing a few yards away turned to face him. "Peter Petrelli?" he questioned. Then his eyes fell on the taller man behind him. "Why is Sylar with you?"

Peter sighed. "It's a really long story. I'll tell you sometime... look, can you turn back time? Can you stop her from--?" He gestured vaguely at where Noah was hustling Claire out of the reporter's sights and into one of the black SUVs that his pretty blonde companion had called up from somewhere.

Hiro closed his eyes and Peter felt a slight, odd ripple. Hiro's form flickered for a second, as if he'd winked out briefly, then he shook his head. "No, Peter, there is nothing I can do. From the moment she decided to reveal herself, she was in front of the cameras. Unless I go back further and risk allowing Samuel to succeed, I cannot change it. Perhaps it is better this way. Perhaps it is better that the Cheerleader is the face of our kind."

Sylar chuckled darkly. "Now that's something I haven't heard her called in awhile," he murmured.

The time-traveler shot him a wary look, then glanced back at Peter. "My brain tumor has been healed, Peter Petrelli, and I have fulfilled all my quests. Charlie is saved and the world is safe once more. But if you ever need my help, all you need to do is call."

Peter nodded and shook the other man's hand. "Maybe we should try to spend some time together when the world _isn't_ in danger," he said with a grin. "I'll explain to you about Sylar, okay?"

Hiro smiled. "Very well, Peter. Thank you. And now we must go. Samuel's former friends are waiting for us." He laid a hand on Ando's shoulder, and the two disappeared.

As they winked out of visibility, Peter turned to Sylar with a heavy sigh. "Okay then," he said. "What do we do now?"

"Well, standing here like idiots isn't going to do us any good," Sylar pointed out. "I... I need to sort things out. Saving her, being a hero, it was like nothing I've ever felt before. I want to be that person. I'm ready to be that person. But I need to think. I'll get an apartment here in the city. And... you'll keep in contact, won't you, Peter?" The pleading tone in his voice surprised the empath. "I don't want to be alone anymore." His desperation was well-concealed, but Peter picked up on it.

"Sure. Believe me, nobody understands not wanting to be alone better than me." Unconsciously, his gaze strayed to the blue and red striped tent where Emma had remained to keep an eye on Doyle until Noah and Lauren could take the man... wherever.

Sylar smirked. "So I see," he said. "Good luck, Peter. I'll see you in a few days?"

Peter nodded. After a quick glance around to see if anyone was watching them, Sylar hurled himself upwards, disappearing against the black sky within seconds.

==SAVANNAH, GEORGIA==

"Tracy, you should see this!" Ricky exclaimed excitably the moment the blonde he was speaking of entered the old Federation-style home.

She smiled at the teenager to humor him. "Can't it wait until I've gotten my coat off? I just got back!"

Without a word, the boy pointed at the television. Tracy's breath caught at the sight of a very familiar face on the screen. Gray-green eyes seemed to meet hers defiantly. "Claire?" Tracy questioned. "What the hell is she--?" A long slice on Claire's cheek healed as they watched.

"She's one of us, isn't she?" Ricky asked.

Tracy nodded. "Yes," she said.

"This is bad, isn't it?"

"Probably," Tracy agreed. "Bad things happen when people find out about us."

"Don't need to tell me that!" Ricky exclaimed, remembering his parents.

Tracy stared morosely as Noah Bennet, still caked in mud, appeared on the screen, wrapping his jacket around Claire's shoulders and hustling her away from the cameras. Reporters shouted questions could be heard, and then the view on the screen changed to a very shocked-looking woman anchor, who made a nervous quip that fell flat. Tracy's fingertips felt cold.

==TOKYO, JAPAN==

"Will the Carnival people be alright?" Ando asked.

Hiro nodded. "Kimiko is arranging visas for them. They will be able to stay safely in Japan for a few weeks, before they find their way in this new world."

At that moment, Kimiko entered the Yamagato conference room where they were sitting. "Hiro!" she exclaimed. "I have just seen, on the television..."

"Claire Bennet," Ando said sadly. "The Cheerleader. She has revealed us."

Kimiko nodded. "What does this mean?" she asked. "What are you going to do?"

Hiro gave her a steady look. "We are going to take care of the people who were fooled by the evil Butterfly Man, until they no longer need our help."

"But that's ludicrous!" Kimiko insisted. "These people are trash! If we give them such an open-ended policy of goodwill, they will only take advantage of--"

"Kimmy!" Ando interjected. "Please! Stop thinking like a very smart businesswoman, and start thinking like a humanitarian."

She raised her eyebrows dubiously, but fell silent.

"I know they cannot stay here forever," Hiro said firmly, "but we are obligated to help them until they find their way. Edgar, the man with Nemesis's power, has told me that they plan to return to the United States once things have calmed down. Perhaps they will resume their Carnival circuit. And with no Butterfly Man to guide them wrong, they could become a safe haven for people of our kind who have nowhere else to turn to."

Kimiko frowned. "But that doesn't tell me what you are planning to do about this girl who has revealed your kind."

"Nothing," Hiro said. "I cannot change that, and I would not if I could. Perhaps it will be better this way. I do not know. I do not know, Kimiko. We will just have to wait and see."

==NEW YORK==

Peter found Emma clumsily attempting to bandage her own fingers. Smiling slightly, he took her hand in his. "Here, let me," he said. Expertly, he swiped a square of cotton soaked in antiseptic across the wounds, causing her to wince slightly. Then he applied more sterile cotton to the tips of her fingers and wrapped each with medical tape. "There," he said when he'd finished. "That should do."

He cast a hateful look at the unconscious Doyle. Emma followed his eyes and grimaced. "He's creepy," she said simply.

"You're telling me," Peter muttered once she'd looked back at him. "Emma, we have to get out of here."

"Why?"

"My niece just dove off the top of the Ferris Wheel."

At her look of confusion, Peter couldn't help but smile, despite the direness of the situation. "Claire has a healing ability. She literally can't die. And she just revealed her ability live on national television. God only knows why, but... I think it would be best if we weren't here once this place starts swarming with reporters. Keep our names out of the press."

Emma nodded, understanding. "Of course," she agreed.

"C'mon. I'll take you home." He laid a hand on her shoulder, guiding her out of the tent and away from the Carnival.

* * *

He walked her up to her apartment. Then, as they hesitated outside her door, he wondered what exactly he was supposed to say in a situation like this. He decided to keep it simple.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

Emma gave him a nervous smile. "I think I'm in shock, but I'm sure I'll be alright."

In the light from the city outside that streamed through the window and fell across her face, she looked unbearably beautiful to Peter. She wasn't pretty in a conventional way, but he had always thought of her as beautiful, and in that moment, he was seized by a sudden urge to kiss her. Resisting, he opted to pull her into another tight hug instead.

When he stepped back, her tight smile had relaxed into a more natural expression. "Thanks," she said.

"I'm glad you're safe," Peter said shakily. "If we hadn't gotten there in time..." He didn't finish the sentence. He was only now realizing how very, very close they had come to not being able to stop Samuel, and the thought scared him to death. Despite telling himself that dwelling on the past was fairly pointless, it still weighed on his mind.

She, however, still looked composed. "I'm fine. It's all fine." And just like that, he had faith that it would be. How could he not, when she was so certain of the fact?

"I'll see you," he said, touching her hand gently in parting.

Emma nodded, giving his fingers a squeeze before she opened her door and disappeared inside her apartment.

Leaning up against the wall, Peter let out a heavy breath. What the hell was that?

==LOS ANGELES==

Matt bounced his young son on his knee, causing the toddler to giggle hysterically. He smiled. Everything felt right in the world. He'd done his part to ensure that they'd be able to stop Samuel Sullivan, and that was that.

But the subject of another villain was still lurking in the back of his mind. When he'd peered into Sylar's mind, he _had_ seen a change there. Something was different. But he still had misgivings about allowing the serial killer to leave, even in the company of Peter Petrelli. Sylar had claimed to be changed before. Who was to say that this time would be any different? How could Matt in good conscience let the other man go free unsupervised?

He debated calling Peter, to check up on Sylar. But what good would that really do?

"Matt?" came Janice's worried voice from the living room. "There's something on the television you really need to see!"

Carrying Matty with him, he was shocked to see a very familiar face on the TV. "Claire?" he gasped.

"You know her?" Janice asked suspiciously.

"Uh... yeah," Matt said. "She's Bennet's daughter. Why is she...?"

"She apparently can survive a fatal fall without a scratch," Janice said dryly. "Or rather... her scratches go away pretty quickly."

"Yeah, that would be her power. She... she revealed it on television?"

"Clearly."

Unsure what to think, Matt sat down. He wasn't sure whether this boded good or ill, but one thing he was sure of: it was a brave new world, and he only hoped people were ready for it.

* * *

Ah, glorious Pemma! Considering the VERY FIRST SCENE of the new volume was full of Pemma goodness, my guess is that their relationship isn't going to be platonic much longer.  
Remember, adding this to your story alert will make me happy. Leaving a review would make me even HAPPIER.


	2. Chapter 1: Exposure

**A/N-** I had a bit of trouble figuring out where some of the characters' storylines were going, and how they were all going to tie together. I now have a decent idea of where this is going, but nothing is 100% concrete yet, so **if you have suggestions, let me know**, and I will try to work them into the storyline I've got planned.

Secondly, allow me to send out a HUGE thank-you to all you wonderful people who have reviewed. This is definitely one of the most overwhelming responses I've ever gotten! You are amazing! Thanks!

* * *

Chapter One: Exposure

_"And the way you say we'll get by, with a little laugh we can fly, you know the measure of hope that brings..."  
-Poets of the Fall, "Overboard"_

* * *

==NEW YORK==

Claire stood under the scalding jets of water pouring down on her, enjoying the feel of dried mud and congealed blood being swept away down the hotel's shower drain. The last twenty-four hours had felt absurdly long, and she didn't think she'd actually slept in over two days. Just because she couldn't feel pain didn't mean she couldn't get tired, and right now, she was exhausted. The steaming water released tensions in her muscles she hadn't realized were there until they relaxed.

The de-stressing wasn't the only reason Claire was prolonging her shower. She was categorically unwilling to face what- or rather, _who_- was waiting on the other side of the bathroom door. She knew her father was furious with her, and as confident as she was in that decision, Claire just didn't want to have to defend it to him right now.

Finally, she could no longer reasonably justify hiding any longer. She stepped out of the shower, relished the feeling of the cool bathroom tiles against the fevered bottoms of her feet. She emerged from the bathroom wearing the pale blue bathrobe the hotel had furnished and running a towel through her damp blonde hair.

Across the room, Noah Bennet sat in the obligatory hotel armchair in the corner by the window. The curtains were drawn closed, and the light from the single lighted lamp flickered off the lenses of his horn-rimmed glasses, obscuring his eyes with the glare. He looked every inch a Company agent, with tension dripping off of him.

"Dad, I know you're mad at me," Claire blurted as he opened his mouth. "I understand that we have to talk about this. But not tonight, okay? Tonight I just... can't. I've already been interrogated by a bunch of reporters. I don't need it from you, too."

"Claire, I'm not the one you owe an explanation to," Noah said.

Before she could ask what he meant, he rose to his feet. "I'm going out for awhile. Stay in the hotel room." He walked purposefully past her and out of the hotel room. The door shut forcefully behind him.

==LOS ANGELES==

"Matt, honey, we talked about this. Are you sure this is what you want to do?"

Smiling at his wife's reflection in the mirror as she perched on the bed behind him, Matt cinched his tie to a neat little knot. "This is something I want to do," he assured her. "I know I said I wanted to be a stay-at-home dad, but after what happened yesterday with Sylar, I just don't know if that's gonna be enough for me. I'm a cop. I stop bad guys; it's what I do. And if I need to work my way up from the bottom all over again... so be it."

"Because you don't have to, you know," she said. "Financially, we're fine."

He smiled at her. "You are an _excellent_ breadwinner, Jan. This isn't about money. It's just something I need to do." As he shifted his weight, he winced.

"How's the leg?" Janice asked, concerned.

"Fine," he said. "It's still a little tender, but no one would expect a dislocated knee to heal overnight, right?"

"No one except Claire Bennet," she replied, a slightly hostile note in her voice.

Matt sighed. "Don't worry about that, Jan. It's got nothing to do with us. My power's an easy one to hide."

"But Matty's isn't," she said. "And what about that Company? They tracked you down once before, almost before you'd even discovered your power yourself! If they can do it, can't other people?"

It was something he'd considered. He wanted to say that it would all be fine, that that couldn't possibly happen again, but he just couldn't guarantee that. It was killing him that he couldn't give his wife a definite answer. He wanted to make sure she and their son were always safe, but he couldn't. "We'll deal with that if it happens," Matt said. He altered the tone of his voice in an attempt to lighten the mood of the conversation. "But for now, I've got an interview to do. Wish me luck?"

She rose to her feet and gave him a quick kiss. "Luck," she said, smiling. He didn't need to be able to read minds to see that it was masking concern. She adjusted his tie a little, then stepped back. When he didn't move, she smiled and made shooing motions with her hands. "Go!" she exclaimed. "Go get a job!"

With a smile on his face, Matt Parkman left the house. Today was the first day of the rest of his life.

==NEW YORK==

Peter rang the bell, feeling unaccountably nervous and failing to convince himself that it was just Emma. They'd already reached a point of friendly familiarity. So why did he have butterflies the size of ostriches fluttering around his stomach?

She answered almost immediately, smiling broadly at him. "Hello, Peter!" she said warmly.

"Hi." What was wrong with him? Emma smiling was enough to make his own mouth grin in response! He was naturally empathetic to others' emotions, but this was a new extreme even for him. "I, uh, thought you might like some company. You've had a crazy couple of days..."

Even as he said it, he was kicking himself for how moronic it sounded. Back at his own apartment, when he'd been planning this visit, it had seemed perfectly valid. After the Kirby Plaza incident, he had really needed some emotional support, and because he'd been cut off from his family, he'd been forced to lean on a man who turned out to be genocidal. He didn't want the same thing to happen to Emma now that she'd had a similar experience.

"Of course, come in!" she exclaimed, cutting off his train of thought. "Thank you, Peter."

As he entered the apartment, he nearly tripped over a brown tabby cat who wound his way between his ankles. Peter crouched down and rubbed the cat's head. Glancing up at Emma, he asked, "What's his name?"

"James Dean," she replied, blushing a little.

Peter laughed. "Good name for a cat," he said.

Emma shrugged. "I watched East of Eden the night before I got him."

"Ah."

"I was about to make tea. Do you want some?"

Rising to his feet again, Peter smiled. "Sure."

They spent a few minutes in comfortable silence as he helped her prepare the tea and they sat down at her kitchen table. Peter found himself watching her out of the corner of his eye, watching the adeptness with which she moved about the room. She looked really comfortable in her own skin for the first time since summoning him to her apartment with her siren song. At that thought, Peter winced, remembering the falling out that had come so close on the heels of a moment that ought to have been wonderful and exciting for her.

"Hey Emma?" he asked when he next caught her eye. "I'm sorry. About the cello, I mean. I just panicked. I should've explained first."

Her expression tightened. "It's okay," she said. "After what happened yesterday, I'm actually glad. I don't even want to see a cello for a long time."

"Sticking to the piano for now, huh?" Peter replied with a sympathetic smile.

She nodded. "I think so."

==NEW ORLEANS==

Camille's shift started while Monica was taking her first break. "Did you hear?" she demanded excitedly.

Monica's head had dropped onto the palm of her hand, with her elbow resting on the break table, and her eyes were drifting closed as the redhead bustled into the back room at the Burger Bonanza. "Hear what?" she mumbled tiredly. Last night had been a long patrol, and working a double shift today had been a _bad_ idea. She just wanted to sleep...

"Mon! Wake up!" Camille exclaimed, way too loud and way too close.

Jerking upright again, Monica pinched herself hard in an attempt to stay awake. "Hm? What?"

Camille sighed. "On the TV, in the newspapers, on the radio, everywhere, Monica! Haven't you heard by now? About that girl in New York who can't die?"

Immediately, Monica was much, much more awake. A girl who couldn't die... that brought only one image to Monica's mind, and that was Claire Bennet. She had never met the girl, but Micah practically worshipped her. The only people her young cousin respected more than Claire were his parents, and Hiro Nakamura and Peter Petrelli- two more faceless Specials Monica had only ever heard reverential stories of.

"Girl who can't die?" she asked in response to Camille's statement. It wouldn't do her any good to seem to know too much.

"Yeah, girl! Where've you been since yesterday?" the redhead asked in amazement.

Monica smiled apologetically. "Asleep. Had a helluva day yesterday, you know."

Camille nodded. "Sure. But this is totally crazy. She's, like, a superhero! Can't feel pain or anything. Damn, that'd be nice!"

"Guess so," Monica said, trying to look skeptical. "Look, Camille, I really gotta get back to work. I'm working a double shift today, and the sooner I get my hours in, the sooner I can go home."

"Okay," the other girl replied. "Tell Jack I'll be out front to take over for him in a minute."

Meanwhile, Monica was desperately trying to process. So Claire Bennet had gone and outed Specials to the world, huh? Apparently it hadn't sunk in that there might be others, if Camille was any barometer for public awareness, but that undoubtedly wouldn't last long. That might not be such a bad thing, though. It would definitely be harder to keep her Saint Joan persona (the newspapers had come up with the name, because apparently some reporter was a fan of 9th Wonders) under wraps, but if there were really as many of her kind out there as she thought there were, they'd never have been able to keep this under wraps for much longer anyway.

Yeah, Monica decided. This was a good thing.

==NEW YORK==

"Get up," Noah said tersely, pulling the covers off Claire. "We need to get out before anyone realizes this is where we stayed the night."

She grabbed for the blanket, looking up at him crossly. "Hm?" she mumbled.

"The media is going to have a field day with this, Claire. We need to keep you ahead of the media circus."

That thought got her going. She still wasn't in any state of mind to be interrogated. Quickly, she leapt from the bed and ran about the room, pulling on jeans and an "I ❤ New York" T-shirt she had bought the night before since she had no other clothes. Thinking back to the night before, when she had faced the news cameras with her hair pulled back, she quickly ran a brush through her hair, pulling it forward just a little to hide her profile slightly. It wasn't much, but it would make her a bit less recognizable. She hoped.

"Alright, let's go," Noah said. "Lauren's waiting with a car to take you somewhere safe--"

"What?" Claire demanded. "No way! I have class tomorrow!"

Noah stared at her incredulously. "You don't seriously think you're going back to school after that... _stunt_ you pulled?"

She lifted her chin defiantly. "Yes, I am. The whole point of this was to have as normal a life as possible! Yeah, people are going to be really fascinated with me for awhile. But there are a _lot_ of other people with powers out there. They'll find other things to talk about pretty soon, and I'm going to try to keep living my life like I normally would. Exceptions have been made for me too many times in the past, and I'm sick of it!"

"Claire, do you have any idea of what you've really done?"

"Yes," she said. "But do you?"

That threw him. "You've turned your life into public property," he said. "As far as the rest of the world is concerned, you're a resource now. They'll use you and use you until you have nothing left to give and nowhere left to go!"

"No," she said. "I won't let them."

"You might try at first, but--"

"So, what? I'm not _strong enough_?" Claire said, her tone taunting and insulted. "Dad, I'm not the same girl I was three years ago! Back then, I couldn't have dealt with this. But I'm stronger now. I can handle this. Ever since I started college, I've been trying to tell you that I want to live more openly, but you haven't been listening! You keep thinking that I still mean that "normal life" means hiding my power and running any time someone gets close to finding out. That's not what normal means to me anymore! I don't want that! I'm sick of running, okay?"

Noah stared at her, then tossed her her duffel bag. "Okay," he said. "I can accept that." The words came slowly, as if they were a struggle for him to say. But he said them, nonetheless.

Claire smiled. "Thank you, Dad."

==LOS ANGELES==

"You have quite a record here, Mr. Parkman," the heavyset officer behind the desk said. "You're a good cop, but after the bombing incident on Capitol Hill--"

"Hey, I was framed for that!" Matt exclaimed. "I've been cleared of all charges."

The older man sighed. "I understand that, Mr. Parkman, but it's a black mark against you, and one that the LAPD can't afford to take on as baggage. You know how these things can be- someone pulls a gun, an officer fires in response, and then we've got the Spanish Inquisition on our hands. One thing out of place, and we all look bad."

Matt nodded dejectedly, biting his lips. For a moment, he hesitated. Then he made his move. Tilting his head, he gave the mental command: _Give me the job. Even a trial basis is fine_.

The officer sighed. "But I tell you what, Parkman. We'll start you on a trial basis, see how you do. If nothing untoward happens, we can try to take you off probation. That sound alright?"

Matt smiled. "Sounds excellent, sir. Thank you."

They shook hands, and Matt gave him his home phone number so that they could contact him as soon as they had completed all the necessary paperwork.

==NEW ORLEANS==

"Hey Monica," Micah said absently when she arrived home. His curly head was bent over some piece of his PDA that he'd spent several days already working on. Monica had almost no understanding of technology, but from what she did know, she thought he was trying to upgrade the little device so that it could handle the kinds of commands he was sending through it.

She smiled, sitting down next to him and watching him tinker away with his little jeweler's screwdriver, its head barely the size of the tip of a freshly sharpened pencil. His midnight eyes were narrowed in concentration. When he focused like this, the rest of the world stopped existing; in fact, she was very surprised that he'd even acknowledged her entrance.

"You heard from West or the girls lately?" she asked, loudly so as to be sure she caught his attention.

Micah delicately shifted a wire a few millimeters, then set aside his tools and looked up at her. "No," he said. "West is busy with school. Abigail is with Lee on their honeymoon. And as for Sparrow, she sort of dropped off the grid."

"In a good way or a bad way?"

"Good way," he assured her. "She said she was going backpacking for a few weeks, try and clear her head. No electronics, so I can't get in touch with her."

Monica nodded. "That's probably good for her. Listen, Micah, you been paying attention to the news today?"

He shook his head. "I was working on--" He gestured at the electronic components strewn across the table.

"Right," she said. "Well, you might want to check it out. I didn't get the full story, but Camille said something at work, and I guess it has something to do with your friend Claire jumping off some Ferris Wheel in New York."

Micah looked at her with a worried expression in his too-old eyes. Quickly, he ran to the TV and placed a hand against it. It flared to life and automatically flipped through channels until it came to a news station. "...what could be the biggest story of the decade," a well-groomed newswoman was saying, "Claire Bennet, a college coed, revealed yesterday that she has the ability to heal almost instantly from any injury. In a dramatic demonstration in Central Park, Miss Bennet dove from the top of a Ferris Wheel at the Sullivan Bros. Carnival." The view cut to a pre-recorded segment, showing a blurry figure standing on top of a brightly lit carnival ride. As the anchor continued to narrate, the figure fell gracefully from the top and landed with a sickening crunch on the ground below. Jerkily, the view moved forward, as if the cameraman were running; the girl stood up and snapped her arm into place. "And now the words which have thrown the world into a frenzy," the anchor promised.

"This is Claire Bennet, and that was attempt number... I guess I've kind of lost count."

The television died. Micah took his hand away. He turned to face Monica with a shaky smile on his face. "That's one way to accomplish that," he said.

"What do you think?" she asked.

He shrugged. "I think... it's going to take a lot of work to stop normal people from turning on us. We've gotta fight the bad guys, and we've got to prove that we're just people, too."

==NEW YORK==

"So, are you going back to work at Mercy Heights?" Peter asked.

Emma chewed her lip thoughtfully. "I'm not sure," she replied.

"You applied to restart your residency, didn't you?" he said. It wasn't really a question.

"Yes. They didn't accept me."

She tried to pass it off as though it weren't important, but Peter could see the sadness in the way her shoulders slumped ever so slightly as she said it. "I'm sorry," he said, taking her hand in his and thinking nothing of the gesture. "You can try again, though, right?"

Emma nodded. "Probably in a few months. Until then, though, I don't know."

"You could come back to work in the file room until then," Peter suggested. "It, uh, it would be nice to have you around." His stomach butterflies were back with his words, and he wasn't sure why. He was confused by his feelings for this woman, not really sure where either of them stood.

A rare smile crossed her lips, and he was glad he had spoken. "Really?" she asked.

"Yeah. I missed you while you were at the Carnival."

She met his eyes with a gentle expression. "It's nice to be missed," she said. "I haven't had a friend in a long time."

"Honestly?" Peter said with a short chuckle. "Me neither. I mean, there's Hiro and Claire and other people like us, but I don't ever just spend time with them. Usually we wind up working together to stop people like Samuel, but that's about it. Nathan was really probably my closest friend, but now he's gone."

Emma squeezed his hand comfortingly. "You're alright, aren't you? I never asked before, but... you're okay?"

He understood what she meant. She wanted to make sure that he was coping with Nathan's death. "I'm good," he assured her. "It's gotten easier. Actually, there's kind of a long story there. See, Nathan didn't die in a plane crash..."

* * *

When he finished his story, Emma's hazel eyes were wide with amazement. "So that man who saved me was...?"

"My brother's murderer. Yes."

"Wow."

Peter shrugged. "I came to terms with it, and with him. Sylar and I are never going to be best friends or anything, but I think we can at least be on good terms. He really wants to change."

"And you want to help him," she said with certainty in her tone.

He nodded. "He's tried to change before, but nobody really believed he could do it. I think he can make it this time, if he has people who are willing to help."

"That's good."

"Yeah."

As the conversation trailed away, Peter found his eyes drawn to her lips, and once again the urge to throw caution to the wind and just kiss her nearly overwhelmed him. "I should probably go," he said suddenly. He needed to get out of here before he did something rash.

Emma nodded. "Okay," she said.

"I'll see you sometime?" he asked, needing that reassurance.

"Yes. I'll think about what you said, about the job."

Peter liked the thought that she might come back to work at Mercy Heights. His job was a hectic one, and he didn't actually spend a lot of time in the hospital itself except before and after shifts, but the idea of being able to stop by the file room to see her, or maybe getting lunch together between shifts, was extremely appealing.

"Goodbye, Peter," she said.

Remembering the last time she had actually said the word 'goodbye' to him, he felt a pang. It was such a depressing word. He opened his arms tentatively for a hug, and was pleased when she immediately stepped into his embrace. Peter smiled.

==ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA==

Claire smiled at Noah before she opened the door of Lauren's SUV. "Bye, Dad," she said. "I'll call you if anything happens, okay? If not, I'll see you in a couple days." He forced a smile, and she was grateful. Clearly he wasn't happy about leaving her to her own devices, but he was respecting her wishes on this. She pecked him on the cheek and was gone.

Quickly, she hurried away from the vehicle before the sleek, black SUV could draw attention. It was clearly a government car, and the less attention she drew entering her dorm, the less likely it was that she would be mobbed immediately. She swiped her student ID through the scanner that would allow her access to the building, then all but sprinted up the stairs. She wasn't sure why she was in such a hurry; wasn't the whole point of this so that she didn't have to avoid people's prying eyes?

But it had been a long drive and a fairly crazy couple of days. She had the right to not want to talk to anyone. Well, anyone except--

"Gretchen!" she exclaimed when she threw open the door to her room and saw her friend (girlfriend?) sitting on her bed with a copy of Chopin's _The Awakening_.

At her cry, the taller girl looked up, and an involuntary smile crossed her face for a moment before fading back into her usual serious expression. "Claire?" she said, as if she weren't sure the girl in front of her was real.

* * *

I *heart* Pemma. Way too much for words.

Anyway, I'm having a bit of trouble figuring out Matt's role in all this (go figure, apparently the Heroes writers can't either), so in particular I'm looking for suggestions on his storyline.


	3. Chapter 2: Mothers and Daughters

**A/N:** I'm having real fun with this. I'm having all kinds of fun plotting out where each character's story is going. This chapter is a bit longer than the last because after I went back and read it again, I realized that last chapter really wasn't long enough to be considered a full episode, so I'm going to try to up the length of each one, so that I can get my full story told. And yes, the first scene with Claire and Gretchen is a bit clichéd, but what can you do?

* * *

Chapter Two: Mothers and Daughters

_"Show me what it's like to be the last one standing. Teach me wrong from right, and I'll show you what I can be."  
-Nickelback, "Savin' Me" _

* * *

==ARLINGTON, VIRGINIA==

"Claire, you're home!" Gretchen exclaimed.

The blonde smiled. "Miss me?" she asked teasingly.

"Depends. Are you okay?"

Claire nodded. "Totally fine, as always."

"Then I'm fully within my rights to be furious with you!" Gretchen burst out. "Claire, what the heck were you thinking?"

Sinking down onto the bed and flopping onto her back, Claire groaned. "Not you too! Why is everybody so _mad_ at me?"

Gretchen crossed the room and sat gingerly next to her roommate. "You did something really stupid, Claire! Exposing yourself like that... yeah, it probably would have happened eventually, but you didn't have to be the one to do it, you know?"

Claire nodded. "Yes, I did. Gretchen, I'm gonna live _forever_, okay? Anybody else who did this... the rest of their life until the day they died would be the center of a media circus. But I'll outlive that. I'll live to see a time when no one really cares who the first public Special-- why are you looking at me like that?"

Gretchen's dark eyes had grown huge and her already pale complexion had turned the color of skim milk. "You're gonna live forever?" she said hoarsely.

"Yeah."

"That's kind of a big bomb to drop, don't you think?"

"I--"

At that moment, the door, which Claire had not locked behind her, swung open and a flashbulb went off, blinding the both of them. "Claire Bennet!" a cacophony of voices cried, followed by shouted questions. Starting up from the bed, the blonde stepped in front of her roommate as if to protect her from the horde of reporters which began surging forward into the dorm room. Claire stared hopelessly at them, at a loss to answer them.

"Hey!" Gretchen yelled suddenly, stepping out from behind Claire and pushing the blonde behind _her_ instead. "Give the girl some peace, huh? She's had a really shitty day, and I'm sure she'd appreciate some peace and quiet without all you people nosing around! Now go, before I call the cops for busting into our home like this!"

The barrage of questions stopped for a moment, and that was all the opening the tall brunette needed to grab one of the foremost reporters by the lapel and drag her to the door. The yelling started up again almost instantly, but Gretchen had managed to push the two who had been forward enough to actually enter the room back and slam the door shut. Quickly, she secured the lock and the chain.

"Thanks," Claire said, slightly in awe of her friend.

Gretchen nodded, pushing forth a smile. "No problem. I have siblings."

"Right."

"So... how do we get out of here?" Gretchen asked, indicating the door, from behind which shouted questions could still be heard.

* * *

The dorm room door flew open and Gretchen appeared before the mass of journalists, looking desperate and harried. "She threw herself out the window!" she cried. Behind her, the window could clearly be seen standing wide open. Immediately, the crowd raced away, cameramen practically tripping over themselves to get downstairs.

Once the last tabloid writer had disappeared, Gretchen stepped back inside the dorm, smiling to herself. "Coast's clear," she said.

Claire grunted slightly as she crawled out from under the bed, brushing lint from the front of her sweater. "Thanks again," she replied. "So we got them to go away. But they'll come back, eventually. What then? I can't hide in here forever, that completely defeats the purpose of coming out."

Gretchen smiled. "Well, I guess we'll just have to take you somewhere they wouldn't think of looking, won't we?"

==TOKYO, JAPAN==

"So... what do we do now?" Ian Michaels asked.

Edgar shrugged. "I suppose for now we have to regroup, don't we," he said. His voice was listless and tired.

They were sitting together in a room at an expensive resort hotel in downtown Tokyo. All twenty of the suites on this floor had been booked for a week, courtesy of Yamagato Industries and presumably to be hidden by some complicated finagling with the company's records. When Ian had walked in, Edgar had been quietly staring out the window, as he had for the past twenty-four hours since they and the rest of the Carnival residents had been checked in.

Ian was worried about him. "You alright?" he asked.

The speedster simply looked at him and gave him a sarcastic look.

"Right, sorry I asked," Ian mumbled. "They've told me- I mean, people said the two of you were close. We all miss her."

Shooting him a look that, had he owned a different power, might have burnt Ian to a crisp on the spot, Edgar said, "You barely knew her." His tone clearly said that the conversation was over, and Ian sighed.

"Look, friend, you can sulk in here all you want, but eventually you're going to have to come out and meet with the rest of us. When I was living in Central Park, I spent a lot of time just watching people, studying them. I got real good at reading them. People are looking to you for leadership. It might not be the best choice, but none of the rest of us have a clue what to do with Samuel gone. You've got to be strong, alright?"

"Can't you just bugger off, Michaels?" Edgar shouted. "Can't you see I don't give a damn?" He rose to his feet and disappeared with a whoosh of air and a flutter of papers.

Ian looked sadly after him.

==NEW YORK==

It figured that it would be raining. How poetic... or perhaps merely prosaic? Either way, Emma was soaked and deeply regretting not having thought to bring an umbrella. She had emailed the hospital to ask about getting her old job back, at least for the time being, and she had received a positive response almost immediately. So here she was, heading back to work, and the universe in general seemed to be conspiring against her getting there.

Attempting to shield herself with a newspaper only did so much good, and Emma eventually gave up the attempt, leaving the sodden pages in a trash can and seriously contemplating a taxi. She resisted the idea, mostly out of stubbornness and an unwillingness to let the weather beat her.

When she arrived at Mercy Heights, she had barely stripped off her damp jacket before her mother bustled in, bearing two steaming mugs. Emma accepted one gratefully. _You're my hero_, she signed with her free hand as she took a sip of the scalding liquid inside.

"I'm glad to see you're back at work," Sarah Coolidge responded, signing as she spoke, "in _any_ capacity. Where have you been? You could have left me with more than a note saying to feed the cat and that you'd be back... sometime!"

Emma shrugged. _I don't want to talk about that_. Informing her mother that she was part of the (now very public) next stage in human evolution was absolutely not on the agenda today. Peter had explained the day before that these things often ran in families, but she was quite certain that she was the only Special in her family and she wasn't close enough with her mother to drop that kind of bomb on her without forewarning.

"Well, you have to talk to _someone_," her mother replied heatedly. "I stand by what I said before. You have to stop bottling things up like this, it's not healthy."

The blonde shrugged. _How do you know I haven't talked to someone?_ she signed.

"Who would that be?" Dr. Coolidge asked, and her gentle tone belied her harsh words. "You have no friends to speak of, and you haven't talked to your sister in six years!"

Emma felt the familiar pang whenever anyone mentioned her sister. There, at least, her disconnection wasn't her fault. _Linda_ had burned that bridge, and not without reason. But it still hurt, and she chose to focus on the first part of her mother's statement than dwell on the past. "I have friends," she protested, out loud this time. Sarah simply looked at her, waiting, clearly dubious. _I do!_ she signed, getting irritated. _ I've got Peter, haven't I?_

It wasn't until she saw her mother's continued look of confusion that Emma realized that she hadn't really spoken with her mother much since making Peter's acquaintance. Of course she had no idea. "Who's Peter?" Sarah asked.

"Peter Petrelli," Emma explained. _He's a paramedic._

After a moment of thought, Sarah nodded. "That would be the late Senator's brother, wouldn't it?"

"More or less," she replied, thinking back to her conversation with Peter the day before.

Despite Peter's long explanation of Sylar and Nathan and Sylar-as-Nathan, she knew that wasn't the full story between the Petrelli brothers. She had sensed a lot of resentment to go with the love they had shared, and somehow Emma got the feeling that Peter didn't want to be known as "the Senator's brother" for the rest of his life. He was an amazing person in his own right, and though he hailed his brother as the true hero, it wasn't _Nathan_ who had pulled her out from in front of a speeding bus. It wasn't _Nathan_ who had gone to the hypothetical ends of the earth to save her when her own trusting nature led her into danger.

Emma wondered about that, too. Peter had touched on the subject of the "years" he had spent inside the mental prison with Sylar, but he had mostly glossed over it. What could possibly have induced him to risk so much? A part of her selfishly wanted to think that she was his reason, but she knew that was absurd. He had probably been worried about her as well, but the thousands of people who could have died were undoubtedly the bigger part of his reason. Still, she was overwhelmed by the sacrifice he had made. Even if only good things had come of it, it could have led to disaster, and the fact that he had done it even _partially_ for her amazed her.

"Emma? Emma!" Sarah exclaimed, waving a hand in front of her face. "Have you been paying attention to anything I've said?"

_Sorry_, she signed quickly. _I was just thinking. The last week has been... unexpected._

The knowing smile on her mother's face was warning enough. Emma could tell that her mother was hoping that she had finally found someone, romantically speaking. "It's not like that!" she protested. _Not that I would mind_, she added to herself. Peter was... she didn't know what Peter was. Adjectives tended to fail her. But it was getting increasingly hard to deny how attracted to him she was. But she wasn't sure she wanted to go there. He was her best friend, something she hadn't had in a long time, and she didn't want to spoil that.

With a sigh, Emma settled back into her chair, content to drink her tea in silence and put up with her mother's smug look.

==ARLINGTON==

"Come _on_," Claire begged, tugging on Gretchen's hand. "I think I just saw a Channel 7 news van!"

"You're being paranoid," the brunette began, but just as she spoke, the selfsame van doubled back and turned down the side street the two of them were creeping down. "Oh jeez," Gretchen sighed. At that moment, a pair of girls darted out from a concealed walkway between two housing complexes. Gretchen stared at them, dumbfounded.

Claire was amazed as well. "Allison? Olivia?" she gasped at the sight of their sorority sisters.

"Come on, guys!" Allison exclaimed. "Or would you rather _they_--" She jerked her head at the news van that was accelerating to reach where they stood. "--caught up with you?"

Neither of them wasted any time, following the other two girls down the path and into a wooded area of the campus, a kind of low ravine between a group of dorm buildings and the science center. A bend in the walkway revealed the back of the chapter house. Once they had slipped safely inside the building, Claire turned to their guides and asked, "How did you find us?"

Olivia shrugged. "We saw you on the news. Kara said that you'd probably need a place to hide out until things calmed down a little, and it made sense that you would try to come here. Who would ever look for an invincible girl in a sorority house? A government safe house or some top-secret facility, maybe, but the Psi Alpha Chi chapter house? No way. So we've been sending people out in pairs to walk around the area so we could intercept you."

Claire stared at her. "Wow. I... I don't know what to say."

Allison smirked. "'Thank you' works," she teased. "What, you thought we'd turn our backs on you just 'cause you turned out to be a mutant or whatever? No way. Sister once, sister for life."

"Thank you," the ex-cheerleader said sincerely. Then she looked curiously at Olivia. "So I was really on the news?"

Olivia nodded. "Every channel."

"Wow. I mean, I figured it would be big news, but that's... wow."

"You're telling us, Supergirl!" Allison exclaimed.

Gretchen winced at the use of her private nickname for Claire. As the other girls bore the stunned blonde away into the house, she sighed, then shadowed them in silence.

==TOKYO==

Ian ghosted down the hall, footsteps light from years of trying to avoid the attention of the passersby in Central Park. When he reached the door he was looking for, he knocked firmly. After a few moments, a woman answered. She was short and slender, with cappuccino skin and a mass of thick, glossy black hair that curled loosely out from under the blue bandana she had tied over her head. Starry brown eyes met his firmly, and hands with scarlet-painted nails rested on her hips. "What do you need, Ian?" she asked in a heavy Honduran accent.

"Just looking for Amanda," he said. "Is she in, Diana?"

Diana nodded, the slightest smile crossing her red-stained lips. "Where else would she be?" she asked caustically. "It's not like we have anywhere to go."

He made a face; the members of the Carnival tended to be free spirits. Being tied down in this posh hotel in Tokyo was doing no good for them. It would only be a matter of weeks- maybe only days- before they all got fed up enough to demand that their "patron" Hiro Nakamura teleport them right back to the States.

At that moment, the Painted Lady's daughter appeared in the doorway, all wide blue eyes and gangly limbs. "Ian?" she asked in surprise. "What're you doing here?"

"Looking for you," he said. "Can we talk?"

Amanda looked hesitantly at Diana, who nodded. The pyrokinetic stepped out into the hallway and pulled the door to. "What's up?"

Ian twisted his hands nervously in front of him. "It's Edgar," he explained. "He's... kind of in a funk. More than that, actually. He and your mother... from what I know, they were close. Her death was really hard on him, and he's not listening to anybody. But we need him. He cares about this family, and he's the kind of person who won't be afraid to take action when it's needed. I've talked to people and everyone agrees, he's the ideal replacement for Samuel. The trouble is, he's just wandering around all listless, like."

"So what are you telling me for?" the girl asked, crossing her arms and looking startlingly like a miniature version of her mother. Her face was very still from the moment Lydia was mentioned.

"I think you need to talk to him," he told her. "I tried, earlier, but he wouldn't have anything to do with me. Kept saying I couldn't understand his grief because I didn't know your mother like he did. But he can't pull that with you, so I thought, maybe..." The look on Amanda's face was utterly blank, and Ian sighed, turning away. "Forget it. I don't know why I thought you'd be willing to--"

A tiny hand fluttered across his shoulder, and he paused.

"I'll do it," Amanda said.

==ARLINGTON==

Three hours. That was how long it took the media to figure out where Claire was hiding. A dozen news vans pulled up in front of the sorority house at a little after one o'clock. Allison wisely prevented anyone from opening the door to them, instead opening a window and shouting that they had no idea where Claire Bennet was. Unfortunately, one of the reporters spotted Claire in the upstairs window at that moment and after that there was no chance of getting them to leave.

Claire flopped back onto the bed that had belonged not so long ago to Becky Taylor. "Can't they just leave me alone?" she groaned. "It's not like I'm the only one! I mean, god, couldn't they go talk to Matt Parkman or my grandmother or somebody?"

Kara Haybeck patted her knee comfortingly. "Don't worry," she said. "I'm sure they'll find someone else to bother soon."

Across the room, Gretchen leaned against the wall, glaring at Kara who sat next to Claire on the bed. When she smiled dotingly at her fellow ex-cheerleader, the brunette had had just about enough. "Um, Kara?" she spoke up, trying valiantly (but failing nonetheless) to keep the chill out of her voice. "Can you give me and Claire a minute?"

The petite blonde bounced up from the bed, grinning madly. "Oh sure, Gretch!" She reminded Gretchen of an excitable lap dog.

Once the door had been pulled closed behind her, Gretchen took her place on the bed. "Wow," she said. "I didn't expect the sisters to react like this."

"They're good people," Claire said.

Silence descended, and Gretchen was hesitant to break it. She knew what she wanted to say, but the last time she and Claire had talked uninterrupted, before she left for the Carnival, they had left things on bad terms. Things were alright now, but Gretchen didn't want to say what she was feeling because she was sure that would just shatter it all over again. Claire, however, was unaware of what she was thinking, because she asked warily, "What did you want to say?"

"I- it's nothing," the brunette said. Then she sighed. "No, it's not. Claire, I... I just don't understand why you did that! All the time I've known you, you've told me you wanted a normal life, and I don't get why you'd willingly throw yourself into the spotlight like this."

The cheerleader bit her lips, looking conflicted. "Gretchen, I once had a friend who told me it was better to be happy with myself than popular. He was right, and I've realized that the only way anybody can really be happy with themselves is if they're honest with the people around them about who they really are. No Special can do that unless people know about their abilities. People were going to find out anyway. It's better that it was me who showed them rather than someone like Samuel or Sylar."

Gretchen couldn't find a response to that. So instead she nodded and said, "So, um, about what you said back at the dorm..."

"Which part?" Claire asked, but Gretchen was aware that she knew exactly which part from the apprehensive look on her face.

"The part about you living forever," she said, her voice angry as a mask for the panic she was feeling.

Claire nodded, looking tragically regretful. "What do you want to know?" she asked.

"How old are you, really?"

"I'm just nineteen," Claire assured her, which made Gretchen feel much better, though it shouldn't. "But I'm going to be nineteen for a really, really long time unless somebody puts a bullet in my brain."

Gretchen nodded slowly. "So you don't age."

"No."

"Wow."

The blonde sighed. "It's the one part of this ability that I really, really hate. Seeing everybody around me grow old and die... I don't want to go through that."

"No kidding." Gretchen again hesitated to say what she was feeling, but decided that it was worth the risk. "So, um, what does that mean for... for us?"

Claire shrugged. "I don't know, Gretch. I'm still not sure where we stand right now."

If it hadn't been for the helpless, lost tone in her voice, Gretchen would have thought she was being blown off (again) by the girl of her dreams. As it was, she understood Claire's fear and confusion and allowed the statement to stand unchallenged. "Okay. So... what now? Those reporters are never gonna leave."

The blonde bit her lip, looking indecisive. Then, without meeting Gretchen's eyes, she said, "I think I have to call my dad."

==NEW YORK==

Emma leaned back in her chair, reaching for a fax that had just come through. As she studied the request for a couple accident reports, she noticed her mother's disapproving scowl. "What?" she demanded.

"I just hate to see your talent wasted like this," the older woman sighed.

_I applied to restart my residency,_ Emma signed. _I was rejected. That's the end of that for now_.

"What?" Sarah demanded. "But Chief Kaufman said--"

"Chief Kaufman isn't in charge of admittance to the residency program," she interjected.

Her mother looked pensive, then said, "Mercy Heights isn't the only teaching hospital in New York, Emma."

_Yes, but it's the closest to my apartment, and you're here,_ Emma pointed out. She didn't bother to add that another thing Mercy Heights had was Peter, because she knew how her mother would take that. Privately, though, she knew that Peter was a big inducement to stay right where she was.

"I suppose," Sarah said reluctantly.

_The file room will be alright for now,_ Emma signed. _It's quiet. I could use some quiet after last week_.

"And what exactly is it that happened last week? You've mentioned it twice now, but--"

Emma shook her head. _It's not important_.

Her mother frowned. "Obviously it is, or you wouldn't keep saying it."

_It's fine. I'm fine. I just don't want to talk about it, okay?_ Emma insisted.

Sarah didn't respond.

==WASHINGTON D.C.==

"What have you told your C.I.A. buddies?" Noah asked the blonde perched on the arm of his sofa.

Lauren smiled. "The truth... mostly. They know that Samuel is dangerous, and they know enough about his ability to be able to keep him safely contained until we can come up with something better to do with him. Trouble is, they don't know what to charge him with, and a lot of people saw him get arrested. He's either going to have to be charged, or _habeas corpus_ will go into effect and he's going to walk."

"We can't let that happen," Noah said, settling down next to her. Coyly, she slid gracefully off the armrest and into his lap, looping her arms around her neck. He was surprised by her bold move, but when she kissed him he decided not to question it.

When she pulled back, she was grinning. "We won't," she assured him.

Noah smiled slightly at her confidence. Lauren had always been this way, very sure of herself and her ability to handle any situation with style. "And what about Doyle?" he asked.

Her eyebrows drew together at the mention of her quasi-friend/stalker. "Doyle?"

A sense of foreboding suddenly flooded through him, icing over the warm contentment he had been feeling just moments before. "Peter Petrelli told me Doyle was controlling his girlfriend. They had him tied up in the House of Mirrors."

Lauren's face was suddenly very pale. "When my guys went into the House of Mirrors, they found a string of lights and a couple of tent poles on the floor. Couldn't figure out what it was doing there. Do you think--"

"That Peter left that psychopath alone and he escaped? Yes, I do."

"Doyle was incredibly loyal to Samuel," Lauren said, regaining her composure as quickly as always. "He'll try to break him out."

"Which means we've got to find him," Noah said, already running through the list of former partners he could contact, with René at the top of that list. At that moment, the phone rang. Picking it up, he spoke tersely into the receiver: "Bennet."

_"Dad, it's me. The press tracked me down and they've staked out the sorority house. An exit strategy would be really helpful right now."_

Noah sighed. "Claire. Okay, I'll have someone there to pull you out in twenty minutes."

_"Thank you, Dad!"_

"That's what I'm here for," he said, though his voice said otherwise. He desperately wanted not to be angry with her, but it was difficult when she made such poor choices.

_"Love you."_

After a slight hesitation, he said, "I love you too, Claire-bear."

It only took him a few minutes to decide whom to contact next. Quickly, he dialed the number. As soon as his call was answered, he said, "Tracy, I need a favor..."

==TOKYO==

Amanda found him sitting on the roof of the hotel, staring at the teeming city below and sharpening a blade without really looking at it. His face was carefully blank, but something about the way he held himself, like a spring coiled so tight it was a miracle it hadn't broken, spoke volumes. Edgar was in torment and even she could see it.

"You know, they say you're supposed to be careful with knives," she said loudly.

He didn't even flinch at the sound of her voice. He just continued to scrape the whetstone across the knife in a precise rhythm. "Yeah, well, most people can't break the sound barrier when they're sleep-walking," he said cuttingly.

Amanda hopped up next to him on the vent shaft he was sitting on. "So, they want me to come talk to you."

"Who's 'they'?" he asked, persisting in examining the Tokyo skyline.

"Well, Ian was the one who asked me, but I think a lot of the family is worried about you."

"Figures," he muttered.

There was silence while Amanda studied the slow motion of the whetstone. After a few moments, she said, "Can I try that?"

"You _want_ to lose a hand?"

"Fine, whatever. Just trying to be social or whatever."

The quiet that fell this time was of an odd nature. It was neither friendly nor unfriendly, neither comfortable nor uncomfortable. Amanda had never spent much time with Edgar aside from across the table at mealtimes, and even then she'd hardly spoken to him. But the caustic exchange they had just engaged in felt surprisingly natural. Neither of them really knew what to make of it.

Finally, Edgar deigned to look at her. Perhaps she was imagining it, but she thought he winced as if in pain when his eyes fell on her. For a few seconds he studied her, then said, "You look very like your mother."

"I know," she said, resting her elbows on her thighs. A moment later, she realized it was identical to the pose he had been sitting in, and quickly pulled back into an ordinary sitting position.

Neither of them spoke again for awhile.

==ARLINGTON==

It was the knocking on the window that alerted them. Claire's head whipped around and she sprang to her feet, already bending her knees slightly in preparation for an attack. But a few seconds later, she was on a level again, her jaw hanging open while Gretchen stared.

"West?" she gasped, flashing over to the window to throw open the pane.

Her ex-boyfriend drifted lazily into the room, grinning widely. "I believe someone called for an exit strategy?" he said cheekily.

"And you're it?"

"I'm it."

==NEW YORK==

Emma was just locking up the door to the file room in preparation to go home for the night when her mother approached her again. "Emma, I've been thinking about what you said, and you shouldn't jeopardize your future just out of convenience. I know we don't visit each other as much as we should, because we work in the same building. But we can make more of an effort to spend time together, and you can try to start your residency at another hospital."

_Mother,_ Emma began to sign, not willing to go over the already tired subject yet again.

Sarah interrupted her, however. "Don't argue with me, Emma. I'm not asking you to do anything right now, but at least consider it."

The blonde sighed. _Alright. I'll think about it. Are you satisfied?_

"Not quite," her mother said. "Here, take these." She handed her daughter a stack of papers.

"What are they?" Emma asked, taking them.

"Applications. Roosevelt Hospital, Saint Mary's, several very respectable hospitals. In case you do decide to do your residency."

Sarah walked away, leaving Emma with a handful of paper and a headful of conflicting emotions.

==COSTA VERDE==

Lyle was vegging out in front of the TV, not really caring what he was watching, when the evening news came on. For the first few minutes, he stared listlessly at the screen. But after the usual guff about who was shooting at whom elsewhere in the world, a story of a very different nature came on. The blonde teenager sat bolt upright. "Mom!" he yelled. "Mom! Claire's on the news!"

"What?" Sandra asked, emerging from the kitchen carrying a damp dishtowel.

"She went and jumped off some building in New York!" Lyle said. Then he glanced at the TV. "No, a Ferris Wheel, I guess. In front of a bunch of news cameras. Looks like she's finally found a way to keep the attention on her permanently."

The dishtowel fell to the floor.

Lyle glanced at his mother. "You're gonna have to go, aren't you?"

Sandra looked sadly at her son. "I have to. I'm her mother."

"I'll be okay here for a couple days by myself, a few weeks if you have to be gone that long," he assured her, all the while wanting to point out that she was _his_ mother, too.

"And if you need anything--"

"Then I'll call Doug," Lyle said, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, Mom, I know. Go on, go pack."

* * *

**Edgar is really fun to write. I love that guy. And yeah, this ep was all about Claire, which I'm starting to get tired of after last season pretty much being "The Claire Show," but I promise I'm going to try and give equal focus to all the characters over the course of the 'season.'**

**Also- according to Jack Coleman, Heroes IS getting a Season 5! Though he could be wrong, I suppose. After what happened with Adrian P, we know the Heroes cast isn't really in the loop LOL... But still! Coleman says we're good to go! That's encouraging!**

**

* * *

**

Next time...

*Claire has a new hideout.  
*Gretchen has a new job.  
*Matt has to deal with an unexpected disaster and the consequences of Claire's actions.  
*Peter has a visit from Gabriel.  
*And many other wonderful, wonderful things...


	4. Chapter 3: No Regrets

**A/N:** I'm loving the fic I'm writing lately. IDK what it is, but I have just been in this _zone_. This chapter isn't as good as I wanted it to be, but I just went with how the dialogue and the story developed organically, because if I try to force anything else it's just going to end up being weird and freaky and I won't be happy with THAT either, so...

Also, I'm not really sure about the accuracy of the content of Matt's portion of this episode. I don't know exactly what a situation like that would actually involve, seeing as I'm from a teeny tiny town and all our cops ever do is sit around and occasionally write speeding tickets. (Seriously, they're like bad TV parodies of lazy police officers)

* * *

Chapter 3: No Regrets

_"Four days to remove all the bad that we do from the heart and the soul of the city sad and cold..."_  
_-Tegan and Sara "Hell"_

* * *

==ARLINGTON==

"I believe someone called for an exit strategy?" the flying boy said cheekily, eyes fixed on Claire.

"And you're it?" she asked.

He smirked at her disbelieving tone. "I'm it."

At that moment, Gretchen piped up, "Um... Claire? Are you gonna introduce Captain Flyboy here, or do I just have to take random guesses?"

The blonde jumped slightly at her friend's voice, as if she had completely forgotten that she was there, so absorbed had she been in the arrival of the newcomer. Gretchen instantly felt a surge of jealousy. This flying boy caught and held her attention from the minute he appeared, but Claire couldn't even focus on her for a few minutes?

"Oh, Gretch, this is West Rosen. We knew each other in high school. West, this is my... Gretchen Berg."

Again, Gretchen felt a surge of irritation and bitter rejection. She gave West a smile that even _felt_ insincere on her face and extended her hand in false politeness. He shook it, giving her an ironic look.

"Okay, then," he said to Claire once he'd dropped Gretchen's hand. "Ready to go?"

"Go where?" she asked, suddenly hesitant.

West's annoyingly smug look was back. "I'm flying you down to a safe place your dad's got lined up. He said he'd call you once we got there to discuss future arrangements or whatever. Meanwhile, he's going to decoy the press with some vague statements... or rather, that freaky FBI girlfriend of his will."

"Oh, you think Lauren's creepy, too?" Claire said, breathing a sigh of relief. "Thank god I'm not the only one."

The flying boy extended a hand to Claire. "You coming?" he asked.

Finally, Claire looked back at the other occupant of the room. "But what about Gretchen?" she asked. "I don't want to leave her here." _Oh, so I'm a "her" now, huh?_ Gretchen thought irritably.

"Your dad thought you'd say that," West said. "I'm supposed to say- and I quote- 'that she's not the one being tracked down by every major news organization and the most powerful governments on the planet.'"

_I don't want you to go! _Gretchen thought desperately. _Don't leave me here alone! _But she merely said, after a long hesitation on everyone's part, "Go on! Get going. I'll catch up later."

The obvious relief on Claire's face was apparent. She wanted to go with this West guy, and it was only some sense of obligation to Gretchen that had prevented her from diving out the window the second he had shown up. For a moment, Gretchen thought she might cry. But very unexpectedly, the blonde crossed the room and took both of Gretchen's hands in her smaller ones, looking up into the taller girl's eyes. "Promise you'll catch up?" she asked.

Gretchen nodded mutely, Claire's sudden proximity freezing any words she might have come up with. For about a half a second, she actually thought that the shorter girl was about to kiss her...

"I'll see you later, then," Claire said, a light blush creeping across her cheeks as she skipped back a step.

Before Gretchen could process what was happening, Claire had backed right up to where West was waiting with a very confused look on his face. He scooped her up into his arms, cradling her close to his chest (again, Gretchen felt a quake of jealousy), and fled out through the window.

The brunette was left to stare in stunned silence after the rapidly disappearing pair.

==NEW YORK==

Peter arrived home to an extremely disturbing sight- Sylar was waiting outside his apartment, sitting patiently on the floor next to his door. He had to remind himself that the man had changed at first, but once he'd gotten over his surprise at seeing the man there, he felt surprisingly at ease with his presence.

"Hey," Sylar said, rising to his feet in that clumsy/elegant way Peter had never seen in anyone else.

"Hi," he replied, deciding that if Sylar wanted to play this extremely casual, he should just follow the other man's lead until he figured out what exactly was the purpose of this visit. Sylar didn't say anything, sensing the awkward tension in the air as clearly as Peter did. As he unlocked the door, something occurred to Peter. "Why didn't you just let yourself in?" he asked. "I'm sure you've got some ability that would come in handy..."

Sylar shook his head. "I'm turning over a new leaf. No breaking into people's homes anymore," he said firmly. "No crime whatsoever."

"Right," Peter nodded, stepping aside to allow Sylar to enter the apartment. "Sounds like a good plan."

"I like to think so," the taller man said with a bizarre smile. He stopped in the kitchen, staring around at the small apartment in wonderment. "Wow," he said. "You take the term "bachelor pad" to a new extreme. Do you even have any furniture at all?"

Peter sighed in irritation- a lot of people seemed to point that out when they entered his apartment for the first time. "Of course I do!" he protested, indicating the mismatched stools he and Sylar were sitting on and the card table that served as his kitchen table. "And I've got a bed, haven't I?" Sylar leaned around the door frame to peer into the bedroom. Then he glanced back at Peter and raised a wry eyebrow. Peter threw up his hands in defeat. "Fine, I've got a _mattress_," he said. "What does it matter? It's not like I actually spend much time here."

"So I see," Sylar said. "What are you doing getting home at three in the morning?"

He shrugged. "Worked a double shift. Usually do on weekends."

The ex-serial killer raised his eyebrows. "You are a sad, sad man, Peter," he said.

"Says the guy who has identity crises every third week," Peter retorted, but there was a slight smile on his face that told the other man that he was joking. As he thought about what he'd said, though, something occurred to him. "What do I call you?" he asked.

"What?" Sylar asked.

"Last year, I went to the future and met a future version of you living in Costa Verde. You were... you'd changed. You were good, like you're trying to be now."

Slowly, he nodded. "I think I remember you saying something about that before you went to Pinehearst."

"Anyway, you went by Gabriel. Do you want me to call you that now? Or is sticking with Sylar good?"

"Gabriel," he said firmly. "There are a lot of... bad memories associated with the name Sylar. I don't think I've earned the right to be called by my old name yet, but I do want to."

Peter nodded in understanding. "I know."

They sat in a strangely companionable silence, both so used to the presence of the other that it didn't seem as odd as it probably ought to have been. After some minutes, Gabriel asked tentatively, "Could you... tell me what I was like? In that future you visited?"

"You were living in the house that used to belong to the Bennets in Costa Verde," Peter said. "And you had that creepy little dog they own--"

"Mr. Muggles?" Gabriel asked in surprise.

"I don't think I want to know how you know that," the empath replied, grinning. "Yeah. You had Mr. Muggles. When I walked into the house, you were making waffles... for your son."

The dark brown eyes that had been watching him so intently changed from calm focus to shock and conflicting emotions so quickly, Peter could hardly believe it.

==LOS ANGELES==

"Hey man, welcome back!" Mike exclaimed, slapping Matt on the shoulder as he entered the locker room. "How've you been?" The sympathetic tone in his voice was clear enough. Matt didn't have to be a mind-reader to know that Mike was referring to his supposed alcoholism (and given the intoxicated condition he'd been in when Mike had found him trying to drink Sylar out of his head, he had good reason to be concerned).

Matt smiled. "I think I've really made a break-through," he said, acknowledging the man's assumptions.

"That's great," Mike said. "Alright, so they've partnered us up again. They figured it would be best to bring you back on under familiar circumstances. Somebody who knows how you work, right? So we'll be riding together again, at least for the next few weeks."

"Right then, let's head out," Matt said enthusiastically. This was what he'd been missing all those weeks practically hiding in his house after the Burnt Toast incident. He missed the satisfaction that came from knowing that in just a few minutes, he would be out on the streets helping to keep people safe.

As they headed out of the precinct and towards the cruiser that Mike had indicated as their patrol vehicle, the older man put a steadying hand on Matt's shoulder. "Okay, I know you're all checked out, but... you're gonna keep it together this time, right? I mean, don't get me wrong, Matt, you're a great cop. But you got issues."

Matt hesitated, on the verge of reading the man's mind to find out what he _really_ thought, but resisted the temptation to invade Mike's privacy. He had decided that cold turkey wasn't the way to go. He would still read minds, and he would still push if it was necessary. But if it wasn't _important_, he was going to respect peoples' rights to their own thoughts from here on out.

"Yeah," he said after a long second. "I'm all good."

That was all the reassurance Mike needed, for now. "Good. Let's get going."

==NEW YORK==

"My son?" Gabriel whispered.

Peter nodded. "His name was Noah."

"As in Bennet?"

"I guess. I mean, you _were_ living in his house. I don't know, the whole situation was really freaking me out at the time."

Gabriel stared at his hands, resting tautly on the slick surface of the folding table. "I can see how that would be... unnerving."

Wondering if he should even ask such a highly personal question, Peter ventured, "Um, I always wondered about it, but when I got back to the present I was understandably pissed at you and I there wasn't a good way to bring it up at any point after that, since we spent most of the time trying to kill each other--" Gabriel let out a bark of humorless laughter at that. "--But anyway, I just wondered... do you have any idea who that kid's mother might've been?"

Very slowly, Gabriel nodded. His face was unreadable, but from the tense way he held himself, Peter could see that he was struggling with something and it was tearing him apart inside.

"Feel like sharing?" he asked gently.

Taking a deep breath, Gabriel said, "It... from the things that happened around that time, there's only one person who comes to mind."

"Yeah?" Peter prompted.

"Elle Bishop," he said, and his voice shook as he pronounced her name, as if it cost him a tremendous effort to say it.

Peter felt his eyes widen. "You and _Elle_?" he asked incredulously. Without thinking, he asked, "Whatever happened to her, anyway?"

When Gabriel looked at him with an agonized look on his face, Peter realized his blunder. "Oh," he said. "_Oh_."

"It wasn't for her ability," the other man rushed to assure him, hiding his face by staring at the table once more. "It wasn't that. I already had that. I took it empathically. I don't even know why I killed her. She had lied to me, I think, though I was never sure how much she actually knew. I was angry and upset and I had just found out that I wasn't really a Petrelli and then Hiro Nakamura teleported us to this beach and I just..."

"Hey, it's okay," Peter said. "Don't dwell on it, okay? It'll just eat you up inside. You can't get better if you can't let it go."

Gabriel rested his forehead in his palms, elbows propped up on the table. "No, you don't understand, Peter. I've killed a lot of people, and I regret that more than you can imagine. But there are three deaths I regret more than any of them. Nathan, because he was so important to you. My mother, because that was an accident, I never wanted to... it's complicated, actually. And _her_. She's dead and I'm immortal and I'm going to regret it for the rest of my life."

It was a strange thought, the idea of the two of them together, and yet... oddly, Peter could see that. The both of them were so twisted that together they just might have worked. Of course, her being dead threw a wrench in that. "I'm sorry," he said, putting a comforting hand on the other man's shoulder.

"Not your fault, it's mine," Gabriel mumbled. "I don't even know why I'm telling you all this."

"You gotta get all the bad stuff out in the open," Peter said. "You can't keep it all hidden or it'll drive you crazy. And as insane as this is... I'm willing to listen. Any time you want to talk about all that stuff. I can't promise it won't make me hate you a little bit again, but if it helps you keep from going back to the way you were, that's worth it, right?"

Gabriel nodded slowly. "Yes, I suppose you're right."

==LOS ANGELES==

Kyle Mattwicke stepped into the bank, hands hanging loosely at his sides and feeling the slight tingling in the tips of his fingers as he prepared his weaponry. A slight smile crossed his handsome visage as he approached the counter. Glittering green eyes peered out of a thin face, and his auburn hair hung past his earlobes. _Yeah, this is good_, he thought to himself. The New York whistle-blower, Claire whatsername, had done him nothing but favors.

He lightly rested his palms on the granite-topped counter as he smiled pleasantly at the teller behind the plexiglass. Her name plate read 'Alyssa.' "Give me all your cash," he said in a conversational tone, "Or I swear to god you'll regret it."

The blonde girl behind the counter gave him a nervous half-smile and a tittering laugh, thinking he was joking. Kyle blinked, and the puce-colored welts that had been growing on his palms burst against the counter.

In seconds, the acid had eaten straight through the solid granite, through the wood facade and plastics below, and was going to work on the marble floor. It spread in a ripple down the counter as the acid continued to dissolve every surface it touched. The young teller leapt back with a soft cry of surprise.

Kyle stepped through the gap he had created, allowing a slightly crazed grin to cross his face for effect. "I told you... don't mess with me!" His voice had started off quietly, but by the time he finished the sentence, he was screaming, practically screaming in rage as he prowled toward where Alyssa stood, back pressed against the wall. "Give me every damn cent in that goddamn bank vault!" he shrieked, and he could feel his spittle stinging his lips as he yelled. In the numbness inside his head, he reigned in the acid coursing through his system so that it wouldn't cause _him_ any damage.

"I... I..." Alyssa looked around wildly, her look pleading for one of the other tellers or one of the terrified bank customers who were backing away from the spreading acid stain on the floor to help her. But no help was coming. Kyle could practically see the resolution form in her eyes as she realized she was isolated. "Go to hell, freak" she said, her voice suddenly strong. Then she dove past Kyle toward the retreating edge of the counter and slammed her fingers down on a small red button.

With a casual twitch of his wrist, he had sent a spray of caustic green liquid across her body. Alyssa screamed piercingly as her skin began to fizz where it touched her. She dropped to the floor, convulsing.

"Huh," Kyle said. "Bad service. Anybody else care to be a bit more helpful?"

==TOKYO==

Ando sighed, allowing a few sparks of crimson to jump from his fingertip to the pencil he was pushing around his desk without the aid of his hands. As if he had read his mind, Hiro suddenly popped up over the edge of his cubicle, giving him a wide grin. "Are you bored, my friend?" he asked.

Cautious, Ando asked, "Why?"

"Because we have just received a Dial-A-Hero call!" the time-traveler exclaimed.

"Not this again! Dial-A-Hero was your worst idea _ever_!" he groaned. "Why did I agree to it?"

Hiro looked at him solemnly. "Because it is a hero's sacred duty to use his gifts to help others."

"But now that the Cheerleader has exposed us all, how will we be able to use those gifts without attracting suspicion?" Ando asked logically. "It would be good for business if people knew we had superpowers, but I promised Kimmy that I wouldn't let anyone know the truth about me."

At that moment, the woman in question strode into view. "Ando, have you told him what we discussed yesterday?"

"I was just about to," he fibbed.

His fiancée gave him a cursory smile and proceeded to do it for him. "Hiro, Ando and I have been talking, and we think it is best to be married sooner, rather than later. I know you are well again, but with what has happened recently in New York... it just seems wise. We were thinking perhaps moving the date up to the beginning of July instead of next January. It's only a month away, but I don't want any _complications_ interfering."

Slightly confused, Hiro nodded. "That seems right," he said. "You have been in love for so long, it is silly to wait."

Kimiko smiled. "I knew you would understand, little brother. And would the two of you mind going over the guest list one last time? Feel free to add anyone I've forgotten." She handed them a few papers held together with a paperclip, and bustled away.

==LOS ANGELES==

They were only three blocks away from the location when the call came in over the broadband. Matt immediately confirmed their quick response and Mike accelerated, turning on the lights but not the siren. "Silent alarm, huh?" the older man asked, shaking his head. "You'd think these people would know better by now."

"Yeah," Matt said, distracted by the nagging headache that was coming on from trying to shut out the voices of the many minds around him.

Barely sixty seconds later, they pulled up in front of First National Bank. Matt jumped from the cruiser, pulling his pistol from the holster and making for the building, but his partner's voice called him back. "Parkman, what the hell are you doing?"

He paused. "I--"

"Wait for backup, you idiot! We're not going in until we've got a clear idea of what went down in there, not to mention more guys on-scene," Mike said in a firm tone.

"Right, yeah," Matt said. "Okay."

It was a rookie mistake, and he knew it. Damn Hiro Nakamura and Peter Petrelli and Sylar and all the rest of them! It was their stupid do-be-a-hero code that had gotten him so used to rushing in without thinking or following procedure. He wanted to get the job done, and he wanted to do it the way he had trained for his whole life, not the way a few hectic years of running for his life had taught him.

Within two minutes, four other squad cars had arrived, accompanied by a hostage situation negotiator.

"Alright, Parkman," Mike said. "You, me, and Bates are going in." He indicated the negotiator. "Everyone else surrounds the building and waits for orders. You got me?" He waited for heads to begin nodding. "Alright then, let's move!"

Quickly the other officers spread out to cover the exits, while Matt, Mike, and the young man named Bates strapped on ballistic vests and prepared to enter the building.

==NEW YORK==

"So," Gabriel said, "Enough about my depressing life. What about you? We've known each other for awhile, but I don't actually know much about you. Even behind the wall, you didn't talk about you much."

Peter shrugged. "What's to tell? My life was pretty dull before I got my powers."

"Tell me anyway," Gabriel said. "I... Peter, I want to try to do right by you. You're the best person to show me how to make things right. And after everything I've put you through, the least I can do is get to know you a little."

It was strange reasoning, but Peter suspected that behind the bizarre logic, Gabriel was actually asking him to be his friend. It wasn't a request he was sure he could grant, but given what he was sure to slip back into being if Peter _didn't_ support him, he supposed he could try. "Okay," he said. "I grew up on the Upper East Side. I was the black sheep and an eternal disappointment to my father. Went to nursing school, got a start in hospice care. Then the eclipse happened. I got my powers. Hiro came from the future to tell me to save the cheerleader from... well, you. It all led up to Kirby Plaza, and from there it was sort of a long string of chain reactions and now I'm sitting here, talking to you at three a.m. about my life."

Gabriel snorted. "If that were the whole story, you would possibly be the most boring person known to man."

"Did you not hear the part about time-travelers?" Peter said jokingly.

"Yes, but who _hasn't_ had a time-traveler mysteriously appear to them to warn them about the future?"

"I'm guessing most of the population of the planet. There aren't a lot of time-space manipulators out there."

"No, I imagine not," Gabriel said. After a slight pause, he asked, "So how did you meet her?"

Thrown by the sudden shift in topic, Peter didn't immediately understand who he was talking about. "Meet who?"

Gabriel shook his head, a slight smile on his face. "Emma. How did you meet her?"

"She works at Mercy Heights," Peter explained. "I met her in the file room. Well, that, and I saved her from being hit by a bus."

"Figures," the other man said, his smile growing. "Only you would meet women as a result of that overdeveloped Messiah complex of yours. So how long have you two been together?"

Distracted with trying to come up with a response to the statement, Peter nearly missed the question. But when he did realize what Gabriel had asked, he was completely taken aback. "Together?" he asked. He was _not_ talking about this with him! "I-- what do you mean? We're not-- she's not--"

"Oh please, Peter, you really think I spent three months inside Parkman's head without learning how to use his power? I know what's going on inside your head when you look at her... or think about her... or hear her name... or are within a hundred foot radius of somewhere she might be..."

"Okay, yeah, I get the point," Peter said, exasperated. "We're _not_ together, though!"

"Do you want to be?"

"I... she probably doesn't see me that--"

"That's not what I asked," Gabriel interrupted.

Peter sighed, and finally admitted what he'd barely even acknowledged in his own head until now. "Alright, yes, I want her to be my girlfriend. You happy?"

Gabriel smirked. "Why don't you just ask her out, then?"

"Because I have... a really bad track record with women," Peter confessed. "Of my last two relationships, one was shot by Isaac Mendez when he was trying to kill me, and the other I left in an apocalyptic future that never actually came to pass."

"Wow, that is rough," Gabriel said, surprised. "You and I are in the same boat, then."

"Looks like it," Peter said, thinking about that. Gabriel might be extremely irritating and annoyingly persistent when he wanted something, but they actually did seem to have quite a lot in common. Maybe they actually could find some stable ground in this bizarre quasi-friendship they'd formed over the past "five years"...

However, the other man interrupted his train of thought. "But there's one major difference," Gabriel said. "The girl you want is out there. So what are you waiting for? Take it from me when I say that you have to grab whatever happiness comes your way and run like hell with it or you're just gonna end up alone."

"I don't want Emma to end up like the others," Peter half-whispered, feeling the immediate terror the thought invoked flood through him. Emma was too important to him, as a friend or as something more, for him to be able to think about such a situation even hypothetically without feeling sick to his stomach.

Gabriel, though, was smiling. "Peter, I don't think she will. Frankly, my role in saving her was minimal. All I really did was distract Doyle. She was the one who threw him across the room. From what I've seen of her, she's stronger than you think."

And with that comforting final thought, he said his goodbyes, promising that he'd contact Peter again in a day or so, "hopefully next time not in the dead of night."

Peter watched him walk out with a slight smile on his face and a resolution growing in his heart.

==LOS ANGELES==

The scene inside was a madhouse. Half the building seemed to have been melted away. Some ten people were huddled in a corner while a twenty-something redheaded man stood over them, hands pulsing weirdly with some kind of greenish goo dripping from his fingertips. It sizzled where it came in contact with the floor, and Matt realized quickly that it was some kind of acid or toxin.

As he and Mike burst in, pistols cocked in the direction of the hostage-taker, he whipped around and flung his hands toward them. A fine mist of emerald spray shot towards them and Matt ducked instinctively. Luckily the shot seemed aimed only at their weapons, which dissolved into noxious puddles on the marble as they dropped them.

"Shit!" Mike hissed, rubbing his hand on his suit and taking an instinctive step back, hands raised.

"W-what the hell--?" Bates whispered, stuttering slightly from fear.

Matt alone retained his composure. He knew what this was. This man had an ability. As he advanced on them, leaving the terrified group of hostages in the corner, he raised his hands and Matt could see the welts that covered the palms of his hands, that slowly turned chartreuse as he watched. Knowing he had only seconds to act, he cocked his head to one side and issued a forceful command.

_Stop._

The man froze, looking confused as though he'd run into an invisible wall.

_Don't use your power on us._

He slowly lowered his hands.

"That's it," Matt said aloud. "Put your hands down. The building is surrounded by cops. You can't run. Just come quietly now, okay?" He reinforced his commands with a mental push. For a moment, he felt a rebellion in the man's mind, but he quickly pushed it down and the only result was a few more drops of the green puss trickling to sear holes in the floor.

Mike quickly stepped up to him and slapped cuffs on him. Matt sensed him thinking about using his power to break free, and tucked that thought somewhere in the back of his head where it wouldn't even occur to him for another few hours at the very earliest.

With his mind so totally focused on keeping the suspect contained and holding his power at bay, Matt didn't hear Mike's suspicious thoughts.

==SAVANNAH, GEORGIA==

When West deposited her gently on the front porch of a huge, Federation-style mansion, Claire was deeply confused. "What am I doing here? I thought we were going to a safe house. How far south did we fly, anyway?"

"We're in Georgia," he replied.

Indignant, Claire drew herself up to her full five feet and two inches. "I thought they'd just stash me in one of Lauren's government hideouts until I could make more arrangements!" she exclaimed. "I didn't agree to this! If they really think I'm going to hide out down here until they find some other target to speculate on in the newspapers, they--"

West put a hand over her mouth, abruptly cutting off her rant before she could really get started. With his left hand, he reached out and pushed the doorbell. "Claire, you're not gonna be here long," he promised. "Even if your dad doesn't arrange it, trust me, you'll get a chance to go on CNN or whatever and do some schmancy interview and tell the whole story."

"How can you be sure?"

He smirked. "Because you're staying with the best PR advisor Washington has ever produced."

At that moment, the door opened, and Tracy Strauss stepped out onto the porch. "Hello, Claire," she said with a genuine smile. "Welcome to Bluecrest."

==TOKYO==

After skimming the list a few times, Ando shrugged. "Looks okay to me. There's my family, and your two cousins, and all of Kimiko's friends, a few important business contacts..."

Hiro snatched the paper from him. "What about your friends?" he asked after looking it over.

"What friends?" Ando replied. "I haven't spent any time with anyone besides you and Kimiko in three years!"

The time-traveler gave an apologetic nod. Then, suddenly, his eyes lit up. "I know!" he exclaimed. "We shall invite our friends in America!"

"What?"

Hiro nodded excitedly, mind already made up. "You can invite Peter Petrelli and the Cheerleader and Mr. Matt Parkman and Mrs. Parkman and Baby Matt Parkman and Doctor Suresh... all of them! It will be perfect!"

Ando looked skeptical. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"It is as Peter said," Hiro said decisively. "We do not get to know each other when the world is not in danger. What better way to see our allies in the good fight than to invite them to your wedding?"

He sill looked dubious, but Ando nodded slowly. "But if it backfires," he warned, "I'm blaming you."

==WASHINGTON, D.C.==

A knock sounded on Noah's apartment door. A smile crossed his face; he was expecting Lauren to drop by for the evening. However, once he'd crossed the room and pulled open the door, he was surprised to find a very different figure awaiting him. The dark-haired teenager was standing in the doorway with her shoulders slumped in a kind of exhausted resignation. However, her head was held high, and her green eyes were cold as steel. She was a different woman from the quirky girl he had first known her as not two months before. Something about her seemed harder, more mature.

"Gretchen," he said, not betraying his bewilderment in face or in voice. "What are you doing here?"

Without invitation, she stepped across his threshold. "Train me," she said in a tone that permitted no argument.

"I... what?"

"Train me," she repeated firmly. "Like you would an agent of the old Company. Bag and tag, and all that."

Noah stared at her, and now he could not prevent the shock he felt at her unusual request from showing clearly on his face. "Why would you want to learn that?" he demanded.

"Because Claire comes from a different world than me," Gretchen said. "And now that she's revealed herself, that world is going to become the ==_whole_ world, isn't it? Only the strong will be able to survive. I want to be one of the survivors. I want to be able to be there for her if she needs me. I want to be able to take care of myself. The best way I can think of to learn how to do that is to become the equivalent of a Company agent." Again, she spoke with civil conviction, and he knew that she would not take being turned down easily.

For a full three seconds he stared at her, analyzing every possible scenario that could result from this. Then he came to a decision.

"Okay," he said. "We start first thing tomorrow."

* * *

**Next time...**

* Peter has a rough day at work  
* Hiro sets about issuing wedding invitations  
* Matt has a confrontation with his partner, and a familiar face from his past reappears  
* Interesting things happen in India

Again, reviews make the world go 'round.


	5. AN: Sorry

**Bad news, guys.**

**Ever since word of Heroes getting canceled got around (*cries hysterically*), I've been trying really hard to get a new chapter of this written, to comfort all us poor dispossessed fans. However, it simply isn't coming. I guess my grief over the loss of Heroes is interfering with my ability to create storylines for the fandom.**

**I do plan to continue this.**

**Eventually.**

**I can't promise that it will be soon, but I DO promise that someday, in the reasonably near future (as in, within 365 days), I will return to the Heroes fandom and write once more.**

**So, for the time being, this is Victoria, signing out to go chill with the Gilmores.**


End file.
